


Hollywood Hoax

by bexacaust



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Ratchet's Death, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:06:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23725792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexacaust/pseuds/bexacaust
Summary: Ever thought of callin’ when you’ve had a few?Cause I always do.
Relationships: Brainstorm/Perceptor (Transformers), Referenced Drift | Deadlock/Perceptor, Referenced Ratchet/Perceptor
Kudos: 12





	Hollywood Hoax

After Brainstorm left this new world, left his mark the only way he could- Perceptor expected silence for a while when he entered the room.

He had grown accustomed to noise, so it was jarring at first- But not as much as the first time a drink was thrown in his face.

His optic flickered in a shocked blink, hearing the accusations thrown at him as Swerve bellowed for the accuser to leave. Accusations calling him homewrecker, thief, buymech- And then they were gone, ushered out.

His shock was plain to see as Swerve offered him a clean bartowel to dry his faceplates, and whispered for him to head home while he figured this out.

The answer was worse than he could have imagined.

Self-styled historians, pawing through old records; journals left behind when a CMO passed into a light he never thought he’d deserve. Memories, taken so far out of context they were barely recognizable. He watched on the small screen in a dim common area- a living room decorated in memories of the dead and well-loved.

They had called it a biography. They called it a retelling, and a re-imagining. And he watched as a speedster decorated in a mockery of his own appearance portrayed him as nothing more than a side-piece; depicted him as a seducer, as an invader.

As they took his name and dragged it through the acidic silt of rust-rivers.

It was Rodimus who first spoke out; who condemned this joke of a faux-history; and Perceptor’s heart broke when it was Xaaron who refuted Rodimus’s words; claiming that Perceptor’s motives were never easily known, that he had been a master of hiding everything from feelings to grudges.

Perceptor closed his optic, and wished Brainstorm was still here.

It was Minimus who came to his door; the observatory-turned-homestead where he and Brainstorm had settled; the loadbearer in high and vicious spirits and armed with every inch of the law he planned to weaponize.

‘I remember what you gave up for our cause.’, he had said, his hand resting on Perceptor’s forearm, ‘And I will not stand by as you are desecrated for the sake of profit.’

The trial was televised. Xaaron defended the studio that treated memory like a moneylender; he looked down his nose as Perceptor sat in silence after being assured he would not be needed to testify as the people watched.

That raw, painful memories would not be shown to the world in some kind of display.

And then Drift was called in by Xaaron- questioned as he looked down. As he gave his ever-vague answers to guiding questions and jurors watched with bated breath.

::It looks dire.::, Minimus commed Perceptor in silence as Drift finished speaking on the sordid history between the swordsmech and the sniper, ::This will be hard to challenge-::

::Get me a hardline, and a projector.::

::…Perceptor, you don’t-::

::Bring those things to me. Now. And I will show them all my place in this little tale.::

Xaaron blanked as Minimus made his request. Perceptor rose from his seat, and heard the gasp in the watcher’s ranks as he walked forward.

“This is ridiculous, Perceptor.”, said Xaaron grandly, “Memories, as anyone knows, are biased, and-”

“And you should know, as a leader on Kimia, that due to my station; not only is my testimony treated as fact in most court proceedings… But my optic feed is recorded, and saved in a locked drive partition on my processor in the event of a fatal incident.”, was the cold answer, “I never deactivated such a thing- Convinced I would die long before anyone cared to remember my name. Not only is that unable to be tampered with, but it is accessible by an Enforcer of the Accord.”

Minimus looked down as Perceptor took a seat in the witness stand, and pushed the portcover open. As the jack slid into place, his optic went dim, and Minimus called up a holoscreen as Drift looked away with optics screwed shut.

Passcodes entered, accesses granted. Minimus put his hands behind his back as images flickered by too fast to count before stopping- and allowing stored footage to play. Of Ratchet’s flirtations once upon a time. Of Ratchet’s purred promises and sly innuendo.

Of his notes left behind in the morning-after’s. Of his purposeful avoidance in days following night’s spent in the microscope’s company.

Of Brainstorm’s soft comforts, with the glint of bottles in the background.

The images passed by again, and Drift rose from his seat to leave only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder- green as greed and strong as sin, it forced him to sit back down while baby-blue optics bore holes in his helm as audio began to play.

‘Love you Perce.’

Drift winced.

‘I love you more, Drift- darling.’

‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

They both looked back to the console; producers trying to scramble out of the courtroom to be blocked as jurors watched in horror as a sleep-blurred feed caught glimpses of a white mech gathering various objects, little necessities…

Before slipping out the door in the dim darkness.

Optics in the jury-stand glittered in tears of empathy, and the judge looked down at his lap and shook his head.

“The court has seen enough.”

“Not. Yet.”, said Perceptor from his half-aware state.

Images flickering by as Drift felt hot glares on his plating, as Xaaron hissed for an explanation from his clients.

The Lost Light, again- the home away from home a ragtag crew had made. Whispers of the conversations overheard- whispers that included the voice of a CMO-turned-Saint and a Nightmare-turned-Warrior. Teasing that was not quite teasing, jokes just this side of off color.

And then the feed was paused, and closed, and Perceptor’s optic onlined as he pulled the jack free of its contact-point.

“As shown in the footage; not only was I slandered- not only was I LIED ABOUT, and depicted as some… villain, for profit…”, he said quietly before he glared coldly at Xaaron and Drift and the gathered watchers, “But I was belittled and drug through the mud mere weeks after my own conjunx endura left this world. May I be dismissed from the witness stand, please.”

“You may.”, murmured the judge.

The trial ended shortly after Perceptor’s expose; he stared at nothing until the verdict was read, he stared through time until Minimus put a hand on his shoulder and whispered that it was time to leave.

Perceptor exited to silence. The gathered crowd refused to look at him as he walked through the tall doorway, shame hanging in the air like a miasma as he returned to transport and murmured the location of Swerve’s bar when the door shut.

He closed his optic, letting coolant leak from the corner of it as the accusations that were thrown at him played on repeat in his processor; interspersed with the lies wrapped up in old I Love You’s.

The door to Swerve’s was propped open when he arrived; the minibot sitting at the bar with Rodimus as they watched him enter. Rodimus rose first- walking forward and pulling Perceptor into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry.”, whispered the still-young Captain, “You shouldn’t have had to… Drift had no right to-”

“I am… used to being so easily discarded, Captain.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

Swerve slid a glass to Perceptor, something bright and fizzing within it.

“Altihexian Sunset- on the house. No tab needed for you, Perce. You drink on my dollar.”, he said.

“…Dare I ask why?”

Rodimus sighed, “….A lot of the crew were interviewed for that… THING they called a Historic Retelling or whatever. And… Well. Their assumptions played a big part in things too.”

“Ah yes- the crew that made every effort to pretend I wasn’t there; at least, until Overlord was. Or the engines made a spooky noise.”

Rodimus nodded; before looking sharply up.

“Percy?!”

The sniper turned, to see Drift in the doorway. Just the sight of the white mech made his spark hurt, and he looked to the side before going to speak- only to be beaten to the moment by Rodimus himself.

“What is your PROBLEM, DRIFT?!”

The swordsmech raised his hands placatingly, “L-Look, I was in mourning, I wasn’t thinking right, I-”

“PERCY’S MOURNING TOO; HELL, HE PROBABLY HAS BEEN LONGER THAN YOU’VE KNOWN HE EXISTED!”

Drift’s finials tilted back and down, “Roddy, c’mon, bro, calm down-”

The crack of a fist meeting a face was loud in the bar, and Drift nearly bounced off the doorframe before Rodimus put a heavy pede to a white chestplate and shoved.

“GET OUT, AND STAY OUT- I DON’T TOLERATE LIARS.”

Swerve shook his helm, putting a hand on Perceptor’s in a gentle pat, “Tailgate commed me- Chromedome and Rewind met up with him and there’s a welcoming party at home for you- a nice quiet one; except for Whirl.”

“…And why is Whirl in my home?”

“He’s acting security. You’re a little famous now; and not just because you’re THE Wrecker-Sniper.”

Perceptor nodded, laughing bitterly and quiet as Rodimus berated his one-time TIC in the background.

“I’ll call you a ride home, enjoy your drink and I’ll see you next week, okay?”

“…Thank you, Swerve.”

“Anytime, Percy. Anytime.”

* * *


End file.
